


Solo

by Redmoog



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clubbing, Drinking, Inspired by Music, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14982842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redmoog/pseuds/Redmoog
Summary: It's a lonely clubbing night.





	Solo

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by two people not on Ao3. This is pathetically short. :( It started as me angst-writing lmao and turned into this. I can't edit the text on my phone for words in the middle of underscores (_) are italicised.
> 
> Inspired by Solo (Clean Bandit ft. Demi Lovato)

He remembered the good times. 

I don't know why my narratives usually start with 'he' but sure, he remembered the good times. And damn, good times they were. Fun and laughter and happiness. 

He didn't feel like dancing, which was weird.

He was taking advantage of his training to hide in plain sight, sitting, nursing a drink. 

Once upon a time, he'd had a dancing partner. Sure, he could _definitely_ get any mech, any femme on the dance floor. He hadn't lost his charm. 

None of them would feel right. He wouldn't feel right. He didn't feel right. 

He was lonely. 

He wanted his old life back. It was stupid to think that way, but he did and he couldn't help it. His spark longed for the past. 

Haha, sucker. The past is gone. 

The strobe lights threw the world into darkness, light, darkness. Every shadowy moment was a moment of hiding. It was a dark moment. (Hah, no shit.) He revelled in the darkness, in being anonymous, in being unnoticed. 

Part of him wanted attention. Part of him wanted to hide. The rest of him wanted to die. 

He had never _wanted_ so badly without relief, never yearned like he was yearning now. It was ridiculous. He hated feeling so vulnerable. 

He didn't feel like himself. 

He felt like he was sinking. He was sinking slowly, as if he was in quicksand. The feeling was sticky, heavy, unwanted. 

He felt stuck. 

He missed his partner. He missed his friends. Why couldn't he do anything right? Sure, he was good at what he did. But the more…personal aspects of his life had ended in a dumpster fire. 

He wasn't truly the sociable mech they all thought they knew. Nobody had known this side of him but his bonded.

"You look lonely."

The three words were as casual as their speaker could make them. Which was to say, extremely casual. This mech was known for his smoothness. He was a reputed liar. 

Jazz looked up and forced a smile, making it look genuine, a flash crossing his visor in a wink. "Why, hello there."

"Hello," said the mech. "I've noticed that you lack company tonight. Mind if I join you?"

Jazz laughed softly. "Sure, ah don't mind."

Starscream sat down behind him. Silence settled for a moment between them, the heavy bass shaking the floor. Even amidst the noise, Jazz heard the quiet ventilation systems of the Seeker. 

When Starscream still didn't say anything, Jazz said, "Ah don't think ya'd have come here for nothin'. Whaddya want?" He tried not to seem too guarded. 

"See," said Starscream. "That's the beauty of being me. People always assume I'm scheming even when I'm not."

Jazz took a sip of his drink. "Ya can't expect me to believe that."

Starscream shrugged. "Why not? It's the truth." He hadn't gotten a drink. Instead, he just sat and watched the mecha dancing. The lights made his plating flash blue, red, green, orange. Jazz still recognised him, but other mecha probably wouldn't, especially not with the way he was sitting. And probably not from a distance. Starscream was well-known throughout the planet but no one expected him to come to a dodgy club. Jazz wondered where his bodyguards were. 

He laughed again. "A'right, if ya say so." He shifted slightly so that he could look at Starscream from the corner of his visor. "In that case, whatcha here for?"

"You," said Starscream. "I've got a proposition for you."

Jazz relaxed into his chair. Another proposition. Mecha nowadays. Always wanting his attention for some job or another, oh, check my security! Check the perimeters. Assassinate this asshole. Assassinate that asshole. Smuggle this for me! Go to the fucking store and buy some fucking additives. 

Vector Sigma. 

"Let's hear it," he replied.

Starscream leaned forward as if to whisper. He said, "I want you to accompany me for a walk."

"And in return?" Jazz played it cool. What the hell did Starscream want? 

"You get your mate back." Starscream let it sink in.

Jazz felt like he was going to collapse. Fortunately, he was in a chair. He'd get Prowl back.

Prowl.

But Prowl was dead. 

"Impossible!" He shot up in a smooth motion, slamming his drink on the table so that it sloshed all over Starscream's hands. "He's _dead_!" He emphasised _dead_ because, well, it was final. Prowl couldn't be brought back.

Starscream only snorted. He was doing a good job of ignoring the spilt drink. "I'm a scientist—"

"Ya specialise in physics!" Jazz exclaimed before hastily lowering his volume. He had better control than that but the emotions that had swept through him at the thought of Prowl…mecha were looking. 

"Jazz," Starscream said patronisingly, "I'm the Supreme Ruler of Cybertron. I have friends everywhere. I know medics. I know priests. I know spiritual mecha. And there's a way."

Jazz's engine rumbled angrily. "There. Is. No. Way. Stop lying. Ah can't have Prowl back and ah've made my peace with that."

Starscream gave him a long-suffering sigh and leaned back, though he soon moved again because of the uncomfortable backrest. "If you insist. I'll be taking my leave, then."

He stood. 

Jazz watched him walk out and tried to convince himself to drop the hope while he still could. 

There was no way he was getting Prowl back.

::You have my frequency,:: Starscream informed him unhelpfully. ::Comm me anytime if you change your mind.::

Jazz only needed to take a walk with Starscream. He wasn't stupid; he knew that _walk_ entailed more than it seemed to. He'd probably have to be Starscream's bodyguard while he went and did something profoundly stupid. He'd probably have to kill again. He wasn't surprised. 

Starscream commed him again. ::It's just a walk.::

His tone was annoyingly smug. 

Jazz vented heavily and sat down again. 

He continued nursing his drink, his processor a whirl of thoughts, his field a mess of hope and sadness. 

It was simply impossible. There was no way for Prowl to return. 

Jazz had a data crystal with all of Prowl's memories on it, along with a few of his own. But Prowl didn't have a frame anymore and his spark was somewhere that was not Cybertron. 

But Starscream _was_ a scientist and he was the SROC. 

Maybe there was hope after all?

•••

Half a metacycle later, Jazz went on a walk with Starscream.


End file.
